A Knight: Swordsman of Gale
by thundersenshi
Summary: -Will not be continued anymore. Sorry. ;; I'm too bothered with how the elements in my story clash with the newly revealed official facts about the Zexen Knights' past and whatnot.-
1. Prologue: A Knight For Loa

**_PART I_**

**Prologue**

_I do not know when it all began, really. Perhaps I never will. You don't have to see things to know that they hurt you._

_Were you to ask me how it had come to this, I cannot give you an answer so quickly. As if it were that simple. Time. Fate. They have played their hands, as I have played my role in the stars. It is so easy to place our lives in the balance they create. So easy to fake responsibility for the turning of the wheels._

_As for why all this has happened...should you know? This is a personal battle, darling. From the beginning, this was my burden to bear. As it is, I hadn't realized soon enough what was to come...when the wounds resurfaced, they were naught but old scars._

_Do you understand?_

_Have you any inkling of what is left to witness? Of the significance of the past and its relation to truth?_

_That's right, my dear. Neither did I._

_What I do know is this: the knights were born for the Goddess Loa. 'Tis her will that we play._

_But this story...is mine._

* * *

Disclaimer:

Genso Suikoden is property of Konami. This story is based on Suikoden III.  
Fanfic written by Spatula Gurl. Contact me at author@chocobuckle.com. Or click the review button.

**(PLEASE READ!)** Author's Notes:

I was contemplating whether or not to have an AN at the end of the prologue, but well...there are just a few things I need to explain before you and I continue on this fanfic.

First of all, this may sound strange to you, but this is a prequel to a story I haven't even written yet. ^^; Now my reasons for writing and posting this prior to the original story I was planning on are simple--_A Knight_ is shorter and less complicated. It's easier to get it out of the way. It has less characters than the other story. Also, I doubt if a reader would be so much bothered reading a prequel first before the story it's a prequel to. When I get to finish all these suikoden stories, it wouldn't really matter now, would it? ^^; (I'm even planning to write a one-shot piece related to these two stories I am talking about, so that makes it three...but let's stop here first before I confuse you guys further).

As to why I am calling this a prequel (you might be asking--why not just call the other story a sequel, right?)...well it's just that! This isn't actually the main story; it's mostly a look in the past, to provide a little background on the larger picture. ^_^ Do not ask me about the details too much--I don't want to give away spoilers.

Also, I'm sure most of you will be asking if I'll be pairing off orginal Suikoden characters here. The answer is yes. One of my main purposes for this story was to provide a solid foundation on a couple of romantic angles I planned to have later on for the other story. ^^; **If you have a problem with mush, though, fear not! **As I said, this is just a glimpse of the past. You won't see much action here, I assure you. It's not the focus of this fanfic, merely a _ **little**_ (and I emphasize that word) sidetrip.

And in case somebody else asks--I'm not really a fan of yaoi. _Gome! ^^;;;_


	2. Chapter One: Farewell, Iksay

**_PART I_**

**Chapter One -- Farewell, Iksay**

_Solis 466, Iksay Village_

The morning breeze was refreshingly cold against his face. He took a moment to pause and close his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on the horizon.

The best view was always by the windmills. Beyond the vast fields, it rose above the land, bathing the rich harvest in a captivating golden light. It was enough to humble the farmer with such gratitude to his goddess--for the crops, for the peace, and for his living. He patted his dampened forehead, smiled, and resumed to work. It was a good day.

Just as he was bent over his crops, he heard the sound of a horse's speedy galloping. Curious, he looked over his shoulder to see who it was.

A rider's silhouette was in stark contrast against the morning sun. He could not distinguish the face in direct sunlight, even as he squinted his eyes to see better. Rider and steed raced past him, against the wind, and the farmer followed the perfect form and speed with his gaze. He smiled now, as he realized who it was. He didn't see the rider's face, but he didn't have to. There was only one person in the village who could ride like that.

"Percy!"

A roguish smile played on the boys lips as soon as he saw the older woman beckon to him. "You're up pretty early," she remarked, as soon as the boy was close enough to hear. She wiped her hands clean on the apron tied to her waist, and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Are you up to something, m'boy?"

Percival laughed and raked a hand through his unruly ebony locks. "I'm always up early, Bertha" he replied easily.

The chubby, old woman snorted. "Not this early. Don't tell me you're nervous?"

His eyes twinkled. "Hmm. And if I were?"

Bertha spared him a fondly-expressed smirk and told him quite frankly, "Then I'd say you're a wise boy." Chuckling, she hit him heartily on the shoulder, and added, "Thought I'd forgotten, hadn't you? Hah!" Percy grinned in response, and trailed behind the woman as she entered a pen to grab a small sack of chicken feed. "It's not everyday that one of our boys goes off to be knighted."

Percival gave a shake of his head, the grin remaining. "I'm not even a soldier yet, Bertha," he reminded her.

She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. "Same thing!"

It was his turn to snort. "Well, in case you've forgotten, it takes years to be knighted. I haven't even begun a soldier's basic training yet."

The old woman's back was turned to him, but she went on to speak, "If they know what's good for them, and for Zexen, they can't miss you, Percy." 

Percival smiled at that heartfelt statement, and was about to say something, but Bertha turned around abruptly and looked at him squarely in the eye. "You listen to me, boy. Never sell yourself short." She gave a grunt and nodded her head airily at his direction before looking seriously back at him. "You go show them what you're made of," she told him.

"Haven't I always?" Percival said, and winked.

"You've got guts, m'boy. And hell will you need it." Bertha smiled fondly at the sixteen-year old boy whom she treated like the son she never had. "Now go and get yourself ready then! Don't forget to come round here before you go off for Brass Castle! I'm not having you leave without a decent lunchbox. You were never a good cook." 

"I won't, Bertha,", he said, waving goodbye and heading home.

She shook her fist at his retreating figure, and called out one last time: "And go take a shower! Your horse smells better than you do!"

A half-hour later, Percival sat down by the edge of his bed, pausing from all the preparation for a moment. After all, there wasn't much to pack anyway. Everything that he had to bring with him to Brass Castle was wrapped and packed two days ago. All that was left to do was to check up on everything that he had packed so far. That...and one other thing.

Reaching underneath the bed, his hands came upon a familiar object wrapped in animal hide. He held it now before him, in a single hand, feeling his nervousness diminish with the heavy weight of steel within his palm. Placing it on the bed, he pulled on the leather strings, unwrapping the parcel gingerly.

_Don't tell me you're nervous._

He almost laughed in spite of himself. He hated to admit it, but he _was_ nervous. Starting today, he would only see Iksay on occassion. He would live the rest of his training days back and forth the Zexen capital, Vinay del Zexay, and Brass Castle. His life would change. And though he was never one to oppose changes, free-spirited as he was, changes this drastic never failed to arouse anxiety from anyone. He was no exception. But there was something comforting at the familiar sight of the broadsword he used to practice long hours with. It was old, created in a dated fashion, but it had served him his purpose for years. It would not fail him now.

He picked it up, along with its wrapping, and headed outside. He walked across his home and rounded the corner to the blacksmith's. The sword he held in his hand was still in good condition. It had only been a few weeks since he last had it sharpened, but one never knows. After all, no one could tell when his next visit to Iksay's blacksmith would be, if ever.

As he neared the place, he noticed someone else sitting quietly in a secluded corner of the shop's yard, facing the fields. It was a girl, facing her canvas and mixing paint on a tiny tin basin placed on her lap. Percival stood there for a moment, until the girl finally took notice of him. Her sweet, heart-shaped face showed a slight surprise, then softened as she stood up to greet him. "Percival," she acknowledged, nodding, her lips curving into a small smile.

"Eve," he nodded back, then looked at the unfinished painting the girl was working on a few moments before. "You've started painting again?"

She looked up at him with her cerulean eyes, brushing back a few tendrils of chestnut brown curls that had gotten loose from her ponytail. "Yes," she answered him. She looked over her shoulder at the painting. "There hasn't been much to do these days. I thought for a while I had given it all up. But then I realized I can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of my life." She tilted her head to the side, and glanced up at him again, briefly, her eyes turning thoughtful. "Except maybe for one thing."

"And what is that?" Percival blurted out, not really meaning to.

Eve gave him a gentle smile that was both sad and meaningful. Percival averted his gaze, at the same time trying to smile back in return. He realized too late that he shouldn't have asked. Still...

"So you're going to have your sword sharpened?" she asked, gesturing to the sheathed weapon he carried.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, scratching his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought...maybe. You know...one last time," he muttered.

Eve nodded. "It looks like we wouldn't be seeing each other in a while."

"Perhaps..."

"I'm leaving Iksay, too."

Percival looked at her in surprise. "You are?"

She nodded. "I thought about going around Zexen and looking for work. Sell off a couple of artworks for a year or so. I've earned enough to finish my schooling at the academy, but I'm also thinking of staying at Greenhill for a while after that."

"Greenhill? That's quite far."

"I know," she said. "But there are a lot of opportunities there for artists like myself. And you know, I've always liked to see more of the world."

Percival nodded in agreement. "That's great, Eve. I know you can do it."

Her lips formed into a rueful smile. "We're going our seperate ways."

"Eve..." he began.

She shook her head, and he he fell silent for a moment. She stepped closer towards him, and looked up at him in earnest. It had been a long time since Percival had seen an expression like that on her face, so long since the two of them had been like this together. "I always knew you'd follow your dreams," she told him, her voice soft. Her eyes clouded, but she closed them now, stood on her tiptoes, and threw her arms around him. Percival was surprised, and hesitantly returned her embrace.

She brought her lips close to his ears so he could hear her. "No matter what..." she whispered, "My heart is yours. Even if you don't feel the same way anymore, I won't change." She stepped away from him, and swiped a tear from her eye. She looked up at him again, trying to smile brightly. "Perhaps someday, we'll get to meet each other again. Maybe by then, you'll be a well-known knight..."

Percival smiled. "Take care of yourself, Eve."

"Until then, Percival..."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I've taken a lot of liberties with the Zexen knights' background and history. You will see what I mean as we go along the story. As the game itself did not provide intricate details, and I find myself researching European knighting. I mixed in a few things here and there that would fit my story aptly.

Kidd's investigation in the game did mention that Percival applied for his current status, and that he struggled to be where he is now. I guess in Suikoden world, the same thing applies--that knighthood are mostly comprised of nobles. I am not certain as to what age aspiring Zexen knights start their training as a page/squire/knight, but for the purposes of this fic, I made my own system (not entirely borrowed from the European system, but close. Just changed a few things). Hehehe. Please bear with it.

The fic starts with Percival as sixteen, but most of the story takes place a year later, which is why in the summary I said that Percival is a seventeen-year old village boy. ^.^


	3. Chapter Two: Curious Characters

**_PART I_**

**Chapter Two -- Curious Characters**

_Solis 467, Vinay del Zexay_

"So it's settled, Captain Galahad."

The official looked at him expectantly, raising a single eyebrow. Sir Galahad, however, showed no outward hints of approval. Underneath his inscrutable expression was a swelling knot of frustration he fought to supress.

"Well, Captain?" another council member pressed.

"The Council is aware that there haven't been a lot of military recruits lately, is it not?" Galahad addressed the official calmly. "The last batch have been well over ten months ago, and there hasn't been a significant rise in numbers since."

"Which is why we appeal to you, Captain. The new constitution regarding trade has not been fully implemented yet. The signing of the treaty requires a lot of conferences between the bordering nations and the Grassland clans. It will definitely take up a lot of time. Until then, it is for Zexen's best interest that the military cooperate with the defenses of our supplies as well, not merely our ambassadors and merchants."

"Hmm. Very well. I shall see what I can do."

"It has been decided, Captain. We shall expect successful reports--"

"So it has. I will send my vassals for important news." Galahad stood up, placing a clenched fist close to his heart. "Let me give thanks to our Goddess for allowing us this occassion to gather here today."

Hearing this, the council members bowed their heads and thanked the Goddess Loa in unison. One official contemplated silently for a moment after this, his lips pursed, but decided to himself that this was probably all the cooperation they would get from the Captain of the Zexen knights.

'No matter', he thought to himself, as Galahad exited the room. 'Knights have sworn duties. Complying to the Council's wishes are an integral part of their obligations to the country.'

"Your sword, Sir Galahad."

Galahad turned to his squire to retrieve the weapon he left before entering the meeting room. "My thanks, Leo."

The young man nodded briefly. "Sir Pelize came by looking for you earlier, but he's in the chapel right now."

"Alright." He proceeded to head downstairs, but halfway through it, he paused momentarily. He turned to his squire again. "Oh, and Leo, you can take a break for a while. It looks like my business here isn't finished just yet, but it'll probably take only a week at most to see it through. You can go off on your own until I summon for you. You probably need the vacation, anyway."

"Are you sure Captain?"

"I'm certain," Galahad replied. "We won't be leaving Vinay del Zexay until my business is done, unless you want to go back with Pelize to Brass Castle on the morrow."

Leo looked unsure, but nodded slowly. "I'll stay, Captain. Thanks."

"Good. Well," he said, as they reached the first floor, "I'll go talk to Pelize now. I will call for you when the need arises, Leo."

At this, Leo bowed his head slightly and excused himself out of the Guild Hall. Galahad headed towards the chapel, but as soon as he reached the entrance, Pelize came out. "The council meeting has finished, then?" he asked.

At Galahad's nod, he said, "I was just waiting for you."

"So Leo has told me earlier," Galahad said. "He said you were looking for me."

Pelize chuckled. "Your new squire is rather burly, isn't he? My own knights are a little afraid of him."

"I can see why they think him intimidating. The lad is a walking pile of heavy artillery."

"That, and the fact that he's of exceptionally heavy build makes his seniors nervous. That spikey suit of his doesn't help any, either."

"Ah well," Galahad conceded. "He's not bad. You get used to it. Actually it gets quite amusing at times, the way people tend to be wary of him at first. I find it rather convenient on occassion.."

Pelize smirked. "I bet you do. Anyway," he began, "I wanted to know what the Council is up to this time. I leave for Brass Castle tomorrow, and I want my own business here finished before they come hollering for me again." He grinned.

"How wise of you," Galahad remarked dryly. "And how timely. They want us to send a regular number of soldiers every trading voyage, so your return to Brass Castle will at least get this new order moving."

The vice-captain cocked a single brow at this piece of information. "Don't we always send them soldiers?"

"Yes, but this time they're thinking of installing them on a regular basis. The guards are not merely there to protect the ship. The Council wants them to keep an eye on the supplies and the trading business per dock. New shifts arrive to replace these soldiers when the next trading ship from Zexen comes."

"Isn't it the ambassadors' job to oversee how the trade is going?"

"That's another thing. Security will be provided for the negotiators as well. The Council isn't even talking about regular soldiers this time. They're suggesting we send them the knights as well."

Pelize was chagrined to hear this. "Now _that _is surprising."

Galahad nodded grimly. "The Zexen knights aren't lap dogs. I asked them their reasons for demanding our cooperation in this, but they merely expressed the amount of precaution they intend to take regarding the new trading laws."

"Strange," Pelize murmured. "I'm as certain as you are that they're not saying everything about this. I just know they're up to something."

"Well apparently, they don't care what we think. We already have enough problems with our own negotiations with the warrior clans of the Grasslanders. We don't even have enough recruits this year."

"So what do you intend to do?"

"What choice do we have but do as the Council wishes? When you return tomorrow, check up on the trainees and the soldiers. See if we can afford to provide the Council what they want."

Pelize eyed the captain doubtfully. "Are you sure about this? We still have to take care of Brass Castle's defenses as well."

"Yes." Galahad turned to him, a serious expression on his face. "I will leave this to you. I have to stay here to iron out a few more wrinkles before I join you at Brass Castle in about a week."

"I understand. I'll have to prepare myself for tomorrow then."

"Yes..."

He yawned.

The old lady beside him shot him a scathing look, as if she couldn't believe how rude he was being. Percival smiled back apologetically, but was pointedly ignored. He mentally shrugged as the woman returned to her prayer.

Percival hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before. He and a couple of other trainees had celebrated their first break since the first time they had started out. He had only been to Vinay del Zexay once before, and he hadn't had time to really do some sightseeing. On this second visit, the first night they were in town, most of the other trainees who didn't have shifts the next morning had gotten themselves happily drunk. He didn't, of course. He thought it a waste to spend the rest of their first night getting intoxicated. Now they were here again, except this time they were officially on duty. His shift weren't until an hour and a half later, though, so he was out hearing mass. Thankfully, he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

His eyes wandered drowsily a bit. He prayed to himself that the mass be over so he could amble his way out and splash his face with cold water or burn himself in the heat of the sun in his armor. That would wake him up. The monotone of buzzing inside the church made him want to doze off.

Just then, the choir broke into a song. Percival silently thanked Saint Loa for this, as the melody broke through the monotony of the sounds before. Also, he recognized it to be the final hymn, so he smiled contentedly to himself. Just as he was about to close his eyes and prepare himself for the final blessings, the choir shot through a particularly high note, and he found himself wide awake with both eyes open, as they did. He was startled to hear a single voice, clearly and astonishingly off-key, that he found himself staring incredulously at the choir members, along with the rest of the people inside the church.

It was easy to tell who made the mistake. A girl at the back row of singers stood there with her beautiful face beet red, and her expression scowling. Her violet eyes so burned with embrassment and wilfull pride, that it was hard not to notice. Before he could stop himself, though, Percival found himself bursting into laughter, so amused by the girl. This brought the attention of the people _and_ the choir (particularly the beautiful, scowling girl) off her and on him, so he caught himself and instantly quieted down. He bowed down his head until the song was over, secreting a grin with the back of his hand, looking as if he were in deep prayer. A quick glance at the girl, however, told him she was not amused by his outburst. He bowed his head down again.

As soon as the final blessings were over, he stood up and proceeded to get out of his pew. However, as he did so, he noticed that the off-key girl was still staring at him, with an irritated look on her face. Percival winked at her, and this made her blush and frown so concentratedly, that he had to restrain a chuckle. He quickly went outside before a possibly furious choir girl could get ideas about hurling sharp objects at his direction.

"Percival!" someone called out.

Percival turned around to see who it was. Jonas, a fellow trainee, ran up towards him. "Thank the Goddess I've found you. I was looking all over for you."

"Why? What is it?" Percival asked his friend, puzzled.

"Chain of command--soldiers and trainees are to meet at the training hall by one o'clock this afternoon."

"What? That's in two hours! I'm up for duty in an hour and a half."

Jonas shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, they wouldn't be issuing a chain of command unless it was really important."

"I wonder what this could be about..."

"Wow. This place is packed," remarked a young squire, his hand absently brushing back locks of his blonde hair. His brown eyes scanned the training field, which, usually at this hour, were a place for knights-in-training such as themselves, and elite soldiers. Now, however, there were trainees scattered about, most training in their own little corner, others a little conscious of the more experienced veterans who practiced their swordplay with deadly precision in the larger part of the field. Squires such as himself were assigned their own area of the training field, their status of near-to-being-knighted gave them access to the largest space, and a vast array of weapons. New trainees were allowed to use their own swords from time to time, but usually they practiced with poles, and blunt spears and lances. And they were usually given access to the training grounds at Vinay del Zexay at dawn or early morning, rarely in the afternoon.

The squire walked over to where the rest of his rank stood. Most of them were practicing, but others were taking a rest. Not wanting to tire himself needlessly just after arriving at the Zexen Capital, the boy sat beside a comrade of his. "Hey, Gaviel, what's up with all the trainees in here?"

The man Gaviel turned up his gaze to the boy, who, at sixteen, a full five years younger than him, was already taller than he was. "Haven't you heard? Oh yeah, you just arrived from a border expedition."

The boy nodded. "What's this I haven't heard?"

The squire Gaviel gestured in front of him, where several trainees were loitering about, taking their rest. "Trainees and soldiers have been asked to join us here this afternoon."

"What for?" the boy continued to ask, puzzled.

"I don't know. But the command was issued by Sir Pelize himself."

"Now that's a surprise," the boy commented, surveying his surroundings. There were a great deal of soldiers about. Some squires, such as himself, were also looking around with a bemused expression, observing the trainees.

Gaviel smirked. "Maybe they really are here to train with us..."

"You think so?" a voice behind them said.

Both males looked behind them and saw two other fellow squires coming their way. The other one, who looked around the boy's age, punched him lightly on the arm. "Hey," he said, in greeting. "You're back."

The boy nodded, and smiled. "Hey, Myriam."

The other newcomer, the one who asked the previous question, sat next to Gaviel and the boy. "Maybe these trainees are here today so we can teach them a lesson or two," he said, laughing at his own joke.

The boy snorted. He had known most of these men since he was studying at the Academy. Gaviel and Dunstan were both older than Myriam and the boy, who belonged to the same class, and were a few batches lower. But he had come to know all of them well since their earlier days of training. Most of the squires who became knights were from the Academy, so it wasn't really difficult to get used to them. And their antics. For one, Dunstan was a reknowned drinker, even when he was in school, although his superiors could never catch him redhanded on campus. Since he started his training as a squire two years earlier, though, he had curbed his regular taste for alcohol. Still, he remained the serious drinker during off days, even winning the regular drinking contests at the local bar. "And what are you going to teach them, Dunstan?", the boy asked. "Drink on duty?"

Gaviel and Myriam snickered, but Dunstan merely smirked at them. "You're all talk, kid. You wouldn't know, you're under age!" He pointed to Myriam. "And you, too. You're both underage," he said.

The boy merely cocked a single eyebrow at him. "I know my wine, Dunstan. In fact, I probably know a lot more than you do when I was twelve."

"Yeah, yeah..." he muttered, sitting beside them. "I can take on any of these soldiers drunk and with one hand tied behind my back!"

"Now who's all talk!" Gaviel said, laughing. "You're full of it!"

"Hmph," was all Dunstan replied.

"Don't mind him. He's just pissed off at some trainees earlier," Myriam told them.

"Why? What's he done this time?" the boy asked.

"You talk like it's my fault!" Dunstan complained. "Well, some bumbling teenagers were crowding the squires' training area a while ago. Just gave them a piece of it. Trainees shouldn't be here, anyhow."

"Cool it, Dunstan," Gaviel told his friend. "They're here on orders from Sir Pelize."

"So I've heard. Maybe we ought to teach them a lesson..."

"Perhaps they really are here to train with us," Myriam said, looking now at the other soldiers practicing in front of them.

The boy laughed. "You're kidding!"

Myriam shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe they wanted new people for us to spar with?"

The boy shook his head. "But what can they do? They're just trainees."

Gaviel laughed. "Say we take them on?"

"Don't be absurd, Gaviel," the boy scoffed. "You shouldn't even waste your time. They've probably got a lot of catching up to do."

"That sounds like a challenge."

All four men looked at each other, startled. None of them had spoken up. Slowly, they turned around to see who had issued the remark.

A boy stood to the left of them, staring at them pointedly. He wore a calm expression, but there was a certain air of arrogance in him that was underneath the slightly smiling face. He was dressed in a burnt red and black tunic--a trainee's garb. At the sight of him, all four stood up. Dunstan and the boy glared, Gaviel frowned. Myriam said nothing.

"What did you say?" the boy demanded. He looked at this interloper with undisguised irritation. Who was this? He didn't look familiar, but he looked about his own age.

"I said, that sounded like a challenge," replied the other boy. He tilted his head to one side, locks of his raven hair falling over his face and covering his eyes. "So now squires have ear troubles, too?"

"Are you challenging me?" the young squire bit back. The others moved to restrain their young companion, but he gestured for them to stay put. "Don't," he warned his friends flatly. Dunstan bristled. "The boy's asking for a fight," he said.

The trainee calmly unsheathed a broadsword from his side, but lowered it. The squire glared at him, eyeing his sword, and unsheathing his own in response. "Sounds to me like you were the one asking for it," the trainee said. "I'm just here to oblige. After all, I'm just a trainee."

"Yes you are," the squire replied. "So why don't you back out now before you get hurt?"

The trainee shook his head and laughed. "A wise person once told me never to count my chickens 'til they were hatched. It would be wise for you to follow this advice, squire. So why don't you put your sword where your mouth is?"

The squire narrowed his eyes, and lifted his sword slightly. He slowly walked towards the trainee, and faced him until he was simply a few feet away. "What is your name?" he asked.

"It would be improper for me to introduce myself, when someone of higher ranking such as yourself is not known to me," the trainee replied. "I'll give mine if you give me yours. What's your name?"

The squire eyed him intently. Seconds ticked by before he finally spoke up to answer the inquiry.

"It's Lord Borus, to you," was all he said.

* * *

Author's notes:

I hope you people hadn't forgotten who Captain Galahad and Vice Captain Pelize are. ^_^ They were mentioned in the early Chris chapters. So were the knights Myriam and Lanchet (they were the ones who were killed during the treaty negotiations with the Grasslanders). I'm using them in this story.

Again, made a little mistake on the initial uploading of the first chapter. Percival in Chapter 1 was sixteen...but for the most part of this story, he's seventeen. By Solis 467 (Chapter 2), he's seventeen...which makes him 25 in Suikoden III (Solis 475). ^_^ Sorry, I worry about details like these all the time, don't mind me.

Exhile87 - Yep, Percival meets Chris, Borus, Leo, Roland and Salome **definitely**! *^.^* And Eve was sort of an ex-girlfriend. ^^;

Meeting old suikoden characters starts on Chapter 2...keep your eyes peeled! ^.^ Hehehe. I was really tempted to include Barts on the first chapter (originally, he was that farmer on the first scene), but I scrapped the idea out. Barts didn't look like he belonged in Iksay 9 years ago. Lol...


	4. Chapter Three: Wounded Pride

**IMPORTANT NOTES:  
if you're icky about details of the knighting system, read. if not, just skip this part.**

There appears to be some confusion as to how the knighting system goes in this story, so I'm going to try to explain as best as I can. As I've mentioned before, I did some research on European knighting, and that of the Middle Ages, so I'm basing the Zexen system there, with just _very _slight differences.

**_This is the typical case for boys to be trained as knights:_**  
Boys who are to be trained as knights start as **pages.** Around the age of seven, they leave home for the household of a knight to learn the basics. It is during this stage of their training that they begin to know the codes, ethics and behavior expected of knights, as well as the art of small weaponry, and taking care of weapons and armor. By the time they are old enough, or have undergone enough training, they shift to being a **squire**, usually at around fifteen years of age or so. A squire acts as valet to the knight he was assigned to as page. At this stage in his training, he receives more serious training, learning combat arts and riding. He participates in battle, and assists his master knight. After around five years, if he has mastered the arts, he is ready for **knighthood**.

**_Special cases:  
_**That a future knight undergo being page, then squire, then knight is not a strict rule. Generally, yes, this format is followed for boys who were really brought up to become a knight. Usually, these are sons of knights themselves, or boys who have knights in their ancestry. More often than not, they are of noble blood. But there are also those who are knighted because of they showed much potential and talent, or exemplary service to the country and such (even without nobility in their family trees). This is not to say that all knights belong to the battlefield, fighting wars. There are honorary orders of knighthood, too. These are the special cases. Some men even go straight to squire status. Age is not a strict rule, too. Squires, especially, have varying ages. Not all of them start young (the afforementioned age starts at 15). In fact, in most accounts I have encountered, squires are older than teenagers. Also, females _can_ be knights.

**_Knights of Zexen:  
_**As I've said, I am following these general rules for knighthood--with my own elements added in. To be realistic, not every one of the squires are of the same ages. And not everyone of them had undergone page status. Those who started their training as pages are those who were really brought up to be a knight: boys whose families are the uppercrust of society. In the case of Zexen, since merchants and traders rule the roost in this country, the boys come from rich merchant families, or they have relatives in the government (the Council) or such. They have the connections, so the arrangements of whom they act as page/squire for are easily determined. Not only that, their training is wholly valid, credited and acknowledged by the Zexen Federation. They are almost assured of knight status (unless they do something serious to screw it up) if they want to proceed with it...unlike others coming from the rank of ordinary soldiers who, because of their lack of connections or strings to pull, would have to be truly exceptional for them to get noticed. For the purpose of this story, I created sub-ranks among soldiers, to determine the trainees from the seasoned soldiers, and the elite ones, all of whom aren't necessarily up for knighthood. Most, if not all of those who belong in these ranks are just commoners who have merely signed up for military service.

Also, it's important to realize that squires aren't merely attendants of knights--they are actually well-trained soldiers by the time they reach the end of their training. They are not merely to be identified as the "valet" (in fact, not everyone acts like Louis the squire does...he really does act like a valet/maid in Suikoden III!), but more as "the status near to being knighted". This will explain the feeling of importance/superiority of some squires, such as Borus and company.

Now, I'm sure you've noticed that the Six Zexen Knights actually look young for seasoned warriors (especially Chris, Borus and Percival, whom I have decided to age as 23, 24 and 25 respectively by Solis 475 [Suikoden III setting]). So I took exception again. I cut back on their supposed training time. I can't specify how much, but I'll clue you in with more details through a character I've inserted into the story. He'll explain a bit of background on the important knights, so you can understand what's going on. ^_^

Sorry about the long speech. On with the show!

* * *

**_PART I_**

**Chapter Three -- Wounded Pride**

Percival shifted his weight from left foot to right, still feeling uncomfortable. He hated guarding the gates. As opposed to patrolling the streets, the duty of guarding the gates required standing still for hours on end and it was...well, for a lack of more exciting term--dull. At least out on the streets his legs got proper exercise. And then there were the people, too. Although idle chatter on his part was not permitted during patrol duty, the townspeople still could speak to them if they so wished (sometimes, new visitors to the city of Vinay del Zexay asked directions). Many of them were gracious enough to spare trainees such as him a word or two of greeting. Young maidens, especially, were particularly sweet and nice, and were always inquiring whether he was tired from a long day of training and patrolling along the streets of Vinay. Percival sometimes wondered if girls outside the city were this nice and good-natured. Possibly because he was young himself, more or less around their age, that the young ladies often seemed so concerned as to how he was faring so far. Or it could be something else... He fought the urge to smirk, lest he looked like the fool, grinning to himself while standing on guard duty.

It was then that two guards approached him. He and a fellow trainee had been stationed to watch over the city gates, and usually in another hour two other trainees were sent to take over their shifts. The guards usually didn't come until early evening to take over their places by Vinay del Zexay's entrance. But this time, it seemed that two of them had already been sent to take over the trainees' stations. Percival recalled what Jonas had told him earlier, about the command issued by the Vice Captain.

"You two proceed at the training hall," the guard, and older man, informed him. "We'll take over from here."

Percival, along with the other trainee, Lucas, eased from his position and nodded in affirmation. "We'll go now."

He walked through the streets now, after waving Lucas off. The latter was going straight to the training hall, anxious not to be late for Sir Pelize's summons. Percival walked to the opposite direction, towards the bar, where Jonas said he'd meet him. He was waiting for him there, as Percival had promised they'd go together at the Guild.

He was only a few meters away from the bar, when Percival saw Jonas approaching him. "I thought you said I'd meet you there," the raven-haired young man said to the newcomer, as he drew closer.

Jonas, mopping the red curls upon his temples, replied easily, "I thought I was going to wait for you finish your guard duty at the entrance. I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be late. I'm a little nervous about this...I mean, the Vice Captain had never issued anything like this before."

"You sound like Lucas," Percival scoffed. Now that Jonas had joined him, both of them easily rounded off to a corner in the marketplace to take a short cut to the city center. "Anyway," he continued, "I doubt it's anything ground-breaking. We should have heard of something by now, if that were the case."

Jonas shook his head in mock sadness. "Percival...you're hopeless. Hadn't it occured to you that maybe this is the moment we 'hear something', then? This can't be anything but big news. Trust me," he told his companion confidently. "I _know_ this."

Percival eyed him with disbelief and a hint of amusement. "How? You mean you've already heard about something and you didn't even bother telling me?"

The red-haired young man gave a negative shake of his head.

"Then how do you _know_?" Percival pressed.

"Really, Percival," Jonas grinned. "You've known me for more than a year now. You know I have a talent for sensing these sort of happenings."

"Hah!" Percival sniggered. "Jonas, with the way you carry about, I'm really surprised you never even considered being a columnist for the Zexen Daily."

Jonas shrugged. "Well, you know why."

Percival smiled to himself. He _had_ known Jonas for over a year. In fact, he was one of Percival's first friends when he came to Brass Castle.

The training for new recruits was doubly hard, then. Or maybe it only seemed difficult back in those days, when he hadn't been used to that amount of physical strain before signing up for military service. One time, Percival had the wind knocked out of him from a stray weapon--he didn't even know what--that another trainee was handling. The next thing he knew, he woke up inside an infirmary, the side of his head hurting like crazy. There was a faint scent of blood in the air, and he had one guess as to why that was. His hand involuntarily shot up to feel his injury when a voice startled him.

"You're awake!" the voice exclaimed.

Percival winced at the sound of another person's voice, his head ringing at the intruding vibrations his ears received. Its source apologized quickly in a hushed tone, then, after a while, asked him sheepishly--"Are you quite alright?"

"I don't know," Percival deadpanned. "Having a bleeding head and an unmanned weapon kicking my ass on my second week in front of my commander and not to mention a dozen other fellow trainees, I'd have to say I feel like about an inch tall right now. Which is just fine, really. I appreciate the concern."

The red-haired boy chuckled softly. "If you're up and joking, then you must be doing pretty well now, I should say." Then he sighed. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to be so careless. I'm really not cut out for this, I guess."

Percival sat up from the bed slowly. "So you're the one who's reponsible for my terrific condition?"

"You could say that," the boy admitted, shamefaced. "I do apologize a hundred times over... I'm not really good at this sort of stuff...'ya know, with swords and all."

"You hit me with a sword?!?"

"Don't be so alarmed," the redhead was quick to pacify him. "It was just the hilt, I swear!"

"Just the hilt, eh? Well if my head isn't split up like a watermelon in summer right now, then I guess it wasn't a blade," Percival muttered tiredly. "What do you mean you're not cut out for this sort of stuff? Why are you here in the first place?"

The boy scratched his head. "I come from a family of great weaponsmiths, you see. My mother's father served as a knight, too. I have several distant uncles who followed the same path. It just seemed fitting to my parents that I end up somewhere along that line."

"Uhh--"

"Not to say that they forced me on this," he supplied eagerly. "I really did want to be a soldier when I was a kid. I've read about knights and the battles they win, and I thought it would be pretty cool to be one of those guys. I even did a lot of research on the greatest knights of Zexen." He smiled, and then shrugged. "Well now that I'm here, it isn't as I've expected. I suppose my father would be disappointed. He got me a recommendation to get in here easily...not that it was hard to acquire, anyway. Like I said, my mother's side has knights in the family."

Percival threw him a puzzled glance, when finally managed to get a word in edgewise. "Recommendation?" he echoed.

"Well, yes. Actually, it came from my grandfather. That kind of recommendation gets you noticed around here, though my parents signed the missive, too, seeing as they've earned their reputations as blacksmiths." He shrugged again. "I wanted to be a knight, and this is the best help I'm gonna get, 'cause my swordsmanship needs a lot of work and I'm awful atop a horse. What about you?"

"I..." Percival faltered. He honestly didn't know what to say, and his confidence died on his lips. He fought the urge to cast his eyes downward in embarrassment. "I don't have a recommendation," he finished lamely.

"Oh," the boy said, after an awkward pause. He frowned slightly in embarrassment. "Well it's not like a real requirement into getting here. Like I said, it's just something to get you noticed, especially if you're wanting to go all the way to knighthood..."

"Well, I do want to be a knight."

"But I don't think you'd be _really_ needing it," the boy hastily ammended. "Besides, I've seen you a couple of times during training. You don't need the extra help like I do."

Percival's spirits had not been on their highest to begin with, after arriving at Brass Castle a whole fortnight before that incident. After hearing that bit of news from a fellow trainee, however, his mood had then gone considerably lower. That first meeting with the talkative, redheaded boy who was actually Jonas opened a door of information for him. A _whole lot_ of information, in fact, for Jonas had been true to his ambitions as a child. As a result, it was like he kept a personal profile of each of the aspiring knights and soldiers within the compounds of Brass Castle. He kept close tabs on everyone who was anyone, even trainees who belonged to different companies altogether. It was almost like being friends with a walking knights' encyclopedia. What he lacked for skill in combat, he made up with his knowledge of knighthood history, as well as his skill for taking good care of weapons and armor (which he claimed to have learned from his family's business).

"Hey."

Percival snapped back to the present, Jonas' poking his side interrupting his train of thought. "What?" he asked.

Jonas merely laughed. "Nothing. You were being way too silent."

"I was just thinking."

"Far it be for me to disturb you...well, we're here anyways," he pointed out. 

True enough, the two had reached the vast training hall. They looked about them in amazement. They had never chanced the training hall within the walls of the Council much. Most of their training went on within Brass Castle, but when they were in the capital, they were sometimes given the privelege of practicing exclusively within the training field of Vinay del Zexay. But neither Jonas nor Percival had ever seen the hall with this much soldiers. More than half of the men present were unfamiliar to Percival, although he was able to recognize some of the trainees. Many of them were from older batches; still trainees, nonetheless. He had been training for over a year now, but he was mostly stuck with three or four other companies of beginners back at Brass Castle, although he had already met more than a few individual veteran soldiers.

"Wow," Jonas remarked. "Look at this place."

Percival nodded his agreement absently, his eyes roaming the vast expanse of the training field. Jonas did the same, watching the same unfamiliar faces around him, and feeling intimidated as the seconds ticked by. Neither of them noticed that they were still standing in front of the entrance, unmoving.

Jonas tried to diminish the anxiety creeping up on his nerves, but to no avail. He could very well see that most of the men present now were far more experienced soldiers, veterans compared to mere trainees like themselves. With a quick eye, he was able to discern many of them. A few were especially high profile. He knew who they were; had heard of them, and knew the recognition their kind received for their service. He tried hard not to appear too excited at the prospect of being in the same gathering as these men, but even staring proved to require much effort on his part. Suddenly, he felt conscious about his trainee uniform; the long-sleeved black tunic topped by an orange vest stood out from the sea of plain black garb and silver armor. He turned now to his friend, glancing at his muted expression and realizing with a bit of disappointment that his friend didn't seem as anxious as he felt inside. In fact, Percival's face merely reflected puzzlement and just the smallest touch of curiousity.

"There are a few trainees around," Percival observed.

"Well not many of us came to Vinay del Zexay anyway, remember?" Jonas said. "The majority of trainees are still at the Brass Castle."

Percival nodded. "I don't know most of these people," he admitted.

His friend chuckled. "I shouldn't blame you. We rarely see these faces, anyway, with the way they keep trainees cooped up in Brass Castle. These men," he gestured with a single hand, "have all the action an aspiring soldier could hope for." 

"They don't look like trainees, that's for sure."

"Look," Jonas pointed out to a section of the field where a couple of men clustered near a weapons rack. "Those are squires. I've never really met them myself. We've met a couple of elite soldiers that even came from the Captain's units during past training days...but you know they never really let us practice with the squires."

"You may be right, after all. This could be something really important."

The redhead shot him a knowing look that he chose to ignore. In the next breath, Percival found his friend pushed roughly to the side. He was too surprised by Jonas' sudden movement that he could only glare at the backs of two other soldiers as he helped Jonas regain his balance. "Stupid trainees," one of them muttered, as the other laughed, and said something that sounded "--like idiots".

"The hell--" Percival started.

"Don't mind them," Jonas quickly grabbed his friend's arm to stop further actions. "I'm okay. I was in the way, after all."

"Did you hear what they said?!?" Percival said, an incredulous expression wiping away his usually smiling demeanor. "What's their problem? They could've simply asked us to move out of the way!"

"It's fine, really, Percival," Jonas insisted. He dragged his friend away from where they were originally standing to get their minds off the rude encounter.

"Boy," the raven-haired boy muttered. "What a bunch of arrogant imbeciles."

Jonas merely shook his head. The last thing he wanted was get into trouble with these people. Already, they had gathered notice of loitering soldiers who looked older than they did, grazing looks at their black and orange uniforms with a detached, subtly condescending air. He felt uncomfortable with the unwanted attention; the last thing he wanted was a fight with any of these men. His eyes landed on a rather secluded spot, and he pointed it out to his friend. "Let's go there," he told him.

Percival nodded and followed Jonas wordlessly. He seemed a bit perturbed with his surroundings, not oblivious to the fact that their presence was drawing attention wherever they passed. There were a few trainees gathered around as well, apart from the two of them; must they stare like they hadn't seen trainees before? Or perhaps because this was only the first time trainees were allowed to be in the same training grounds they were occupying? He was also bothered with the unexpected show of hostility just a while ago. The fact the two unknown soldiers they had bumped into had referred to them as "stupid trainees" with an emphasis on their lower rank irritated him. True, because they belonged to the lowest rank of soldiers (and they weren't even officially considered as such), they were given their share of ego-deflating moments. Plenty of times, in fact. But Percival had met many others who were above their status and they had much less arrogance.

He broke away from his inner ranting when he overheard a few remarks from casual observers along their way. Jonas shot him a meaningful glance, and he wisely chose to ignore the musings spoken aloud. Many of these were harmless, after all...he realized that most of the soldiers were merely speculating as to why there were trainees such as themselves around. He himself wondered what they were doing here, and why soldiers of varied ranks came to gather at this place.

As they came to a stop, a man approached them. He was wearing chain mail, the spurs by his feet blackened and a bit muddied, and his forehead was moist with sweat. Jonas noted these details, and realized with a start that the stranger must be one of the soldiers who had just arrived from the recent border expedition. "Excuse me," the man said, his voice deep, yet betraying a hint of exhaustion.

"Yes sir--?" Jonas prompted.

The man shook his head and waved away the formalities. "I am Lanchet. Just that will do. Anyway," he continued, "There seems to be a lot of soldiers about, including you trainees. I just came back from a gathering with the Grasslanders, so I haven't heard what this is all for. Have you boys any idea?"

Both Percival and Jonas gave a negative shake of their heads. "It was an order from Sir Pelize that all trainees present within the city attend this summons," he supplied helpfully. "We hadn't even known that there would more than just trainees around until we came here ourselves."

"I see," the man said, his eyes turning thoughtful. "Thank you." With a slight nod, the man turned his heel and walked away. 

Jonas heaved a sigh of relief, and turned to Percival with a small smile. "See? That one wasn't so bad."

"Well it's not like--"

"Get out of the way."

Percival and Jonas whirled around in surprise, and saw a tall young man scowling at them. Percival frowned in response to the rude interruption, but Jonas caught his eye. He quickly stepped forward before his raven-haired friend could say anything untoward, and said, "I'm sorry, I thought we were quite out of the way over here. You could have asked a little more nicely." He smiled, if a little weakly.

The man narrowed his eyes. "I could, except that I don't have all day and you trainees have been scattered all over the place, wandering around like half-wits," he spat out. 

Another fellow came up behind this man, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dunstan," he said quietly, as if to cool his friend's temper.

The man called Dunstan glanced at his friend briefly before turning his head back to Percival and Jonas. "It hasn't been a good day, Myriam," he said, speaking to his friend, but looking at the two strangers before him. "It's not enough that we get dragged in here, five minutes just after coming home from the Grasslands. Another five minutes _inside_ the training field, and I almost got hit by a trainee's wayward lance. I came home unscathed from hostile territory and then almost got myself killed by some clumsy fool's incompetence--where's the justice in that?" His ranting finished, he turned his full attention now to the two, and his scowl darkened even more so. "And now I find two more trainees who aren't supposed to be here taking up the squire's area."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Jonas said, "but we trainees are here on orders from Vice Captain Pelize."

"And we didn't even know this was the squire's area," Percival cut in, a frown marring his handsome features.

Dunstan grunted. "Figures. Hell of a lot of things they teach trainees nowadays."

"Dunstan," the other man, Myriam, spoke up again, this time more urgently. "Just leave them alone. You say you don't want to be bothered by trainees, and here you are wasting your time with them." Myriam raised a single brow in question. "We have better things to do."

"I think we'd better go," Jonas said quietly, speaking more for the benefit of the two squires, rather than Percival. He could sense his friend's simmering anger, and it wouldn't be good now to be get into some trouble with a couple more rude squires. He didn't want to find out what they could do. Hell, he didn't want to see Percival pissed off, either. His friend was usually good-natured, and came off as easy-going...but you never know with their types.

Percival decided to stay quiet once again, his face assuming an inscrutable expression as he walked beside Jonas. "You know," he said mildly, "The next time they come around, I'm not so sure I can keep from chopping their heads off. And may the goddess forbid you to stop me when the opportunity presents itself."

"And what good would that do you?"

"A worthwhile amusement, if not satisfaction."

Jonas raised a single eyebrow. "You don't know that. Besides, who knows if they can pummel us to our deaths?"

"I think I'd be willing to find out," Percival replied dryly.

"Well I don't. These are squires we're talking about. The lot of them has already assissted knights into battle. You can carry off on your own, 'cause you're good, Percival, but I'm not in the same league as you are." Jonas hated to admit it, but he was one of the worst trainees in their company, recommendation or no. Several other trainees who had the same help he did had already advanced to higher ranks a few months ago, but not him. He got his share of digs about his lack of swordsmanship skills. In fact, though his friend was quite oblivious about it, the only reason why he wasn't bothered so much or at least half the time, was because of Percival. Percival was not only an excellent swordsman and rider who earned the respect of his fellow trainees; he was pretty easy to get along with. Others didn't bother him as much when they realized the two were good friends. Unfortunately, Jonas didn't have the same rapport with other trainees, who regarded him as something of a geek.

The two slowed to a halt as they looked about them. There was nowhere else they could sit quietly without being bothered. They had unknowingly wandered back into another squire's area, to their chagrin. Percival was not too keen about seeing the two squires they bumped into earlier, especially the man called Dunstan, so he and Jonas hurried to pass, but they could not help overhearing a few more conversations. And seeing faces they had taken pains to avoid, as it turned out. Much to their surprise, it _was_ the squire Dunstan again...but his back was to them, and he talking with a couple of other men who looked liked squires, as well.

"...maybe we ought to teach them a lesson," Percival heard Dunstan say.

"Perhaps they really are here to train with us," he heard the companion, Myriam, say.

One of them laughed, a boy with a head of light-blonde hair. "You're kidding!" he heard the boy exclaim.

Myriam shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe they wanted new people for us to spar with?"

The boy shook his head. "But what can they do? They're just trainees."

Another of the men laughed. "Say we take them on?"

"Don't be absurd, Gaviel," the boy scoffed. "You shouldn't even waste your time. They've probably got a lot of catching up to do."

Percival stopped his stride abruptly. He had heard enough. The word "stupid" and its numerous other synonyms had been far overused for just one afternoon. Now being called "incompetent" completed his day. He turned slowly, imperceptibly, towards the squires. 

Jonas was alarmed, and he moved to catch his friend's arm, but was met with a brief, cold look.

He let him go.

Percival was just a few meters away from them, when he spoke in a clear, distinct voice--"That sounds like a challenge."

Four men turned around to face him, surprise written across their faces. A flash of recognition went through Dunstan's eyes as they fell on the figure of the boy that stood before him now. His face darkened to a scowl. But Percival paid him no mind, and stared pointedly at the blonde-haired boy, unblinking.

The boy frowned at him. His furious brown eyes swiftly took note of the trainee's garb. It was a subtle scrutiny, but Percival noticed it. The boy's eyes now returned his own pointed stare, directly, measure for measure. "What did you say?" he asked, demanding to know if he had heard right.

Percival's lips curved into a tight smile as he obliged. "I said, that sounded like a challenge." He tilted his head to one side, locks of his raven hair falling over his face and covering his eyes. "So now squires have ear troubles, too?"

The other boy's eyes narrowed at the deliberate jab. "Are you challenging me?" he asked menacingly. His friends moved to his side, but he gestured for them to stay put. "Don't," he told them.

It was Dunstan who spoke up, his expression dark as he glared back at Percival. "The boy's asking for a fight."

Percival looked at them for a moment, then brandished the sword on his side, the action itself more telling than words. The young, blonde squire eyed the unsheathed weapon balefully before grabbing at his side and taking out his own sword.

"Sounds to me like you were the one asking for it," the raven-haired boy said smoothly. "I'm just here to oblige. After all, I'm just a trainee."

"Yes you are. So why don't you back out now before you get hurt?" the squire taunted.

Percival shook his head and laughed. "A wise person once told me never to count your chickens 'til they're hatched." His smile fell slightly, and his eyes turned serious. "It would be wise for you to follow this advice, squire. So why don't you put your sword where your mouth is?"

The squire walked towards him in a slow, deliberate manner. Stopping a few feet away, he took a careful stance and lifted his sword. "What is your name?" he asked.

"It would be improper for me to introduce myself, when someone of higher ranking such as yourself is not known to me. I'll give you mine, if you give me yours. What is _your_ name?"

The squire eyed him intently, silently contemplating the taunt. Seconds ticked by. 

"It's Lord Borus to you."

Percival's smile widened upon hearing the reply. "Borus, is it? That's good enough for me." He too, lifted his sword. "Mine is Percival."

"Hmph," Borus grunted. "Enough talk, trainee. We fight now!"

He swung his broadsword in a long, downward slash with a single hand, and was more than surprised when his blade was met with his opponent's. The trainee blocked the attack with both hands gripping his own weapon, his smug look wiping the shocked expression on the squire's face.

Borus quickly withdrew his sword swiftly from the block to attack once again, his blade sliding into an upward diagonal slash. Percival had jumped out of the way quickly, defending himself against four more consecutive blows from the squire's sword. His teeth clenched in his effort to deflect the powerful strikes that came one after another. The Lord Borus was a strong swordsman, and the harsh blows that fell heavily and repeatedly against his blade proved it. Soon, Percival was backed a few paces from where they once stood.

_'The squire may be stronger,'_ Percival thought to himself, _'But he's not as quick.'_ In a blink of an eye, he parried the blows that came toward his direction, once again almost catching the skilled squire off-guard.

Borus gritted his teeth in frustration. He should not have underestimated his opponent. With deft strokes, the trainee regained the distance he took back, his feet swift and agile, and his armed hand more so. Borus was aghast at finding himself alternately defending with his sword, his own attacks parried with such speed that he was disgusted to admit amazed him. _'How can a trainee be this good?'_, he thought to himself, cursing. It was like some absurd joke. If it were someone older, there could be some valid explanation, at least. But this raven-haired boy looked as young as he was.

The trainee now faked a thrust of his blade to the side, narrowly missing Borus' arm, and exposing an unprotected back that Borus jumped at the chance to strike. Percival pulled his arm back quickly, however, pushing the hilt of his sword at his opponent's hand, forcing the squire to jump back and retaliate with a similar blow with his own weapon without losing momentum.

_'He's too fast. I must concentrate.'_

The two were unaware of the small crowd that had gathered near their fight scene. A few minutes into the swordfight, several soldiers and squires had already taken notice. It was truly a curious sight to see a trainee and a squire practicing with their swords against each other...or was it really practice? As the duel increased its heated pace, frenzied sounds of steel clashing against steel brought them the attention of all who were near. The other soldiers who had been practicing earlier had forgotten to resume their training at the sight of the two engaged in a splendid display of sword skill. The other squires had began to cheer for Borus, while the rest of them watched the raven-haired boy, who called himself Percival, curiously. 

The boy's face was unfamiliar...unlike the young squire's, who was easily known by his peers as one of the youngest men to have ever achieved his rank. Even back in the Academy, the young Borus had been known for his excellent skill with the sword.

Now here was this trainee, a teenage boy, who challenged him. The onlookers realized that this was not something they get to see everyday and avidly watched from the sides.

The other trainees had gathered around, as well, but they were much more silent than everyone else who were watching the fight. Most of them stared incredulously, awestruck. Jonas stood among them and the expression on his face was anxious. Long minutes had passed, and still he could not believe what he was seeing. His friend had _not_ just challenged Borus Redrum. No, he corrected himself. His friend was _just_ fighting Borus Redrum.

The said squire now growled low, and brought his sword high, preparing to strike overhead. Once again, Percival attempted to block with his sword, but Borus had anticipated the move. In one smooth swing, he ducked low and slid his sword downward to escape the steel barrier before pushing his weapon upward. The squire's blade snaked gracefully up Percival's shoulder cutting a thin layer of fabric from his uniform. Were it not for quick reflexes, he would've torn more than just the surface of his clothes. As it was, he jumped back again, unminding his narrow miss, and prepared to disarm Borus when suddenly--

"What's going on here?"

The simple question had pierced through the noise coming from the avid audience. Borus had not even heard it, yet it was voiced in such a calm, deliberate manner that it did not need further emphasis nor increased volume. He noticed the obvious shift in the small crowd that had gathered around them. It had parted, which was one reason why the question rang clear within the vicinity. Percival had heard it, and he stopped himself in mid-swing to look for the source of the commanding voice. There was no mistake.

It was Sir Pelize, Vice Captain of the Zexen Knights, his armor glinting brightly under the late afternoon sun. He wore no helmet. Not even an amused smile.

His gait was brisk, and his presence commanding. The two boys had long stood apart from each other, trying to supress their lack of breath and calming their own frenzied nerves as they watched the Vice Captain approach.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The words died on his throat. Percival found that he could not come up with an explanation.

And neither could Borus, who stammered confusedly. "S-Sir," he began.

Gaviel stepped away from the crowd, and intervened. "Sir Pelize, Borus and this young man were just practicing..."

Pelize. "Is that so?" He turned to Borus and Percival, and eyed them doubtfully. "A squire and a trainee?"

"Sir--"

The Vice Captain brushed off further attempts of explanation and inspected the clean cut of a blade made against the trainee's garb. "Practicing with real swords...and without proper armor." His expression darkened. "You could have been injured. I require practice of logic and precaution among my soldiers because ghosts don't fight. A dead person is useless in battle. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Borus and Percival promptly answered.

"You'd do well to curb your brashness, the both of you." He was silent, eyeing them critically for a moment before speaking up again. "Perhaps it is just as well," he said. "That I have summoned a meeting for all of you today may have been fortuitious. It is time we get down to more serious matters."

A low murmur rippled among the soldiers. Pelize gestured for the crowd to be silent.

"You may have been wondering what this is all about. We'll get to that," the Vice Captain said. "You see, there has been a slight change of plans regarding recruitment and promotion of soldiers this year, since the proposal of the new constitution and treatise...which I am sure you are already aware of by now. It seems, the Council has new orders." The Vice Captain smiled sardonically, and some of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably from their positions upon hearing this announcement. He continued, "They have several demands that the Knighthood must meet. Unfortunately, the timing cannot be worse, as the influx of recruits has not been up to par with the number of obligations they have been issuing us.

"And so the Captain and I have decided on a quick, yet efficient solution. It requires all qualified troops to report to Brass Castle by the end of next week--even those who have yet to complete their eighteen months of training will have to go. The same goes for squires. And knights alike." The hushed whispers rose in volume at this reveleation, and several soldiers looked askance about each other. "My participation--supervision, rather, is included in this as well." Pelize's smile broadened, and his eyes searched through the dozens of of faces with varying reactions to his news. "Which is why I have personally delivered this command. My return to the headquarters is tomorrow.

"You shall be further informed of the details when you arrive at Brass Castle. There are going to be changes in the units you have been assigned to, as well as the commanders who shall be overseeing this new training program," More looks of surprise met the Vice Captain's gaze, so he cheerfully added: "And I am quite certain that most of you shall find the new arragements...interesting."

His eyes descended particularly on the squires, before hovering finally on the small crowd of trainees.

"The first five units shall be expected to arrive in Brass Castle in no less than three days. Make haste all necessary preparations for your departure."

* * *

Author's notes:

I know you're bored. I'm sorry, I'm really dragging this story, but I promise to quicken the pace for the next chapters. Yes, you'll be seeing the rest of the Zexen Knights. ^_^ It's just that all these introductory chapters were a **NECESSARY EVIL**. ^^;

Exhile87 - thanks for pointing that out! I already made the change.  
Crystal - Nope, Leo is even younger than that in this fanfic. He's around 20 years old here. If you like, you can read an explanation on the knighting system of this story in a disclaimer at the beginning.  
Ayanami - it looks like we agree on the same things. ^^ I don't like to give away spoilers, so... hehehe...wait and see.  
marionette - here's a longer chapter. ^_-

You know, I'll let you in on a little secret...one that may give you a clue as to how I will be writing my suikoden stories--I never liked Borus Redrum. ^^;; Ever. But he will be one of the most important characters in the story which _A Knight_ is a prequel to, so that means he's a pivotal character here, too. Ah well. I have to be extremely kind and generous to Borus because of this.

**Coming up in the next chapter:  
**The plot thickens! Galahad is plagued by strange, unexplainable dreams. And, a surprising revelation presents itself in the form of a young, silver-haired maiden.


	5. Chapter Four: Beginnings Come Undone

**News on Suikoden III manga!!!  
**I've finally been able to slap eyes on a few scans, and some scanlations of the Suikoden III manga, and I must say...I appreciated the added information. I am now armed with more insight on the Zexen Knights' characterization! ^_^ Although, yes, one may argue that at some point, the story from the manga differs from that of the game, but the end results are just the same anyway. And I liked the perspective on the Six Knights. And I loved it because it has more Percival moments than I had expected. I think the artist was a little biased towards him, as well as Chris because she seems to get more coverage than the other two main characters (Hugo and Ged).

Anyway, I have discovered a couple of interesting tidbits in the manga. **(1)** Percival, Borus, Leo and Roland were all hanging out together before Chris Lightfellow came into the scene. They were pondering on her situation, too, as a woman wanting to become a knight, and she proved a mystery to them. Borus had shown interest then, but he tried his best to hide it. **(2)** Chris shows more emotion in the manga. She laughs and jokes with Percival *_gasp_*! She even _cries_, and she's not even spared from angsty moments! Can you believe that? The ice queen!?! **(3)** There are more Percival/Chris scenes than Borus/Chris, which really came as a surprise. **(4)** In the Iksay Village scene where Percival takes Chris to the festival and dances with her, it was also shown that Barts and Percival seem to have known each other for quite a while. So Barts the farmer really is an Iksay native then... **(5)** Borus is even more infatuated with Chris in the manga than he appears to be in the video game. Poor Borus...^^; **(6)** The Lilly/Chris dispute was shown in the manga (the reason for their catfight is finally revealed!). ^_^ Percival breaks up their fight. **(7)** Captain Galahad is old and has a receeding hairline. But distinguished-looking. ^^ Think Sean Connery with less hair on top.

My take on this? Well, at first I was disappointed, because I wanted to divulge the history of the Six Zexen Knights in my own way. I thought Konami hadn't bothered to dissect their stories, but it turns out it isn't so. But well, I've already started this...and I'm not claiming that everything in my story is a certified Suikoden fact, anyway. Just take it as it is, as a fanfic. I will, however, try to incorporate the new information from the manga into this fic (those that can be added without changing the storylines), such as the cute Percival moments. I've been enlightened on the characterization of Chris Lightfellow and Borus Redrum, so there will be slight changes in their sketches. But it's rather nice to know that Chris isn't the uninteresting ice queen as I had initially thought her to be. I like her much better now. As for the implied pairing...well, I've already had the rest of this story planned a long time before, so I won't change the [future] pairings I have in mind (this is not a romance fic...the sequel is). That's all I can say without citing spoilers. The sequel to this story has Sierra/Nash in it, so you can be sure at least that I'm not rooting for a Chris/Nash. Sorry to disappoint their fans, but I'm Sierra all the way. ^_^ I'm a staunch vampire Sierra fan.

* * *

**_PART I_**

**Chapter Four -- Beginnings Come Undone**

"That was Borus Redrum."

Percival glared at the redhead across him, and downed half of his mug of ale. "I know. You already said that. Tell me something else."

Jonas frowned. "Well then, how about '_you're under age'_?"

"I already know that, too."

"You appear to have forgotten, my friend."

"Well, nobody asked. No one's complaining."

Jonas sighed, exasperated that he was not getting through his friend's indifference. "That--"

"If you're going to say one more time that _that _ was Borus Redrum, I just might keel over with surprise anytime now."

Jonas had the grace to look affronted. "Well, you don't seem to care!"

"Gee, you think so?" Another swig of ale.

"You _should_ care, though."

"_You_ have got your logic all muddled up."

He shook his head. "Borus Redrum is considered one of the most skilled young swordsmen around here...well, if you don't count the knights, of course. They all say they're just waiting for him to be of proper age before he's knighted, and that it's all just formality. He excelled in all the arts back in the Academy and outclasses most of his fellow squires, and he's just sixteen!"

"I do hope you left the little detail of his underwear color undiscovered."

Jonas gave Percival a scathing glare, but he went on as if his friend hadn't spoken. "Not even a score old, and he's got all that going for him. Why, he might be the youngest squire around...aside from La--"

Percival abruptly stood up and brought down his now empty mug a little more forecful than intended. "I've had enough of this. I'm going to sleep."

He didn't even wait for Jonas to respond. He dropped a few coins on the table to pay for his ale and headed to his room.

Jonas looked after the retreating figure of his friend, sighing mournfully to himself. In his mind, he was still confused by how the events of the day progressed. He couldn't even talk sense to the distracted Percival and ask him what the hell happened back there. Most of all, he wondered about Sir Pelize's cryptic order. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

All qualified soldiers to report to Brass Castle?

Trainees, squires...and_ knights?_

He could not sleep.

He continued to stare up at the ceiling of his room, as he had been doing for the last half hour.

His mind drifted unconsciously (not for the first time) to the swordfight that ensued between him and Borus, the squire.

It disturbed him...in his heart, and in his mind, he knew he was good with the sword. He was one of the best among the trainees. But what good did that do him? Several other trainees who came from affluent families and had all the connections to help them along their way to knighthood had certainly moved on to a higher rank. The eighteen months of training requirement didn't apply to all of them. Just to commoners like him, he supposed.

Had he been naive to think that he'd go far with just sword and riding skills?

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He had fought with Borus Redrum, reputedly one of the best swordsmen among the squires. When he challenged him, he wasn't so sure he'd be a match against the kid, but then he hadn't even cared. The boy turned out to be only a year younger than he was, but that afternoon he hadn't known. He looked young, and perhaps deep inside, that gave him enough courage to challenge the squire. Their bout remained unfinished, but he held up better than anyone's expectations...his included.

And then now to hear that Borus Redrum was actually one of their better swordsmen around? In his eyes, Percival could clearly see himself among their ranks, and it wasn't just pride talking. He knew himself enough, he knew what he was worth. He was a match for that overachieving blondie.

Only...he was just a trainee. Borus Redrum was out to be a knight for certain...sooner than _he'd_ ever be. He'd be lucky to even have that kind of assurance.

It had been more than a year ago, but Bertha's words echoed back to him now.

_Never sell yourself short. You go show them what you're made of._

He'd never back out now. His dreams were at stake.

He'll show them.

* * * * *

It was a dream.

In his dream, he was walking endlessly in a straight path. He knew his purpose, and he was striding towards it. A single, blinding light illuminated a clearing before him. There was nothing else. But as he walked nearer towards the source, the light shone brighter. And brighter. Then suddenly, just as he was reaching out his hand for something, it had grown pitch black.

But even in the darkness, he could see.

And his hand closed upon something cold. Yet strangely, the hand that held this thing became warm the moment they touched.

His heart pounded in his chest. He looked up and thought he saw the form of a woman. Someone who was familiar, but he could not, for the life of him, figure out who it was. There was something different about her face.

In the darkness, the woman bent down from where he was standing. She was floating in air. Her mouth formed into something that resembled a smile, but it was mirthless. And she closed her hand upon his.

And then he woke up. Sweating profusely.

He frowned as his sleep-fogged mind desperately tried to grasp the remnants of his dream. But they were slipping from him like water from his hands...he could remember almost nothing.

Nothing, except for that moment, when he felt his heart pound against his chest, fear and trepidation seeping into his bones...  


* * * * *

"Galahad?"

He looked up with a start. Pelize chuckled and shook his head. "You seem out of it. What were you thinking of?"

Galahad looked away. "Nothing of importance."

"Bad night?"

"You could say that." Galahad rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't been sleeping very well these days."

"You're probably just overstressed. Maybe you're not much used to all the paperwork, and would rather be out on the battlefield. Hell knows I get headaches when I see too much of the Council."

"In any case, I shall be tending to their matters exclusively while I'm here at the capital. It may take some time before I join you at Brass Castle. If I join you there at all..."

"You mean until the next time they call for me? I don't see why they would, seeing as the captain of the Zexen Knights is already staying within Vinay del Zexay."

"I am not going to be here all the time."

Pelize let out a long sigh at that. "I suppose. Well, I shall have to get going. The morning is wasting." He mounted his horse.

"Fare thee well, Pelize", Galahad said. "Leo will be following shortly. I shall be without a squire for quite a while, I suppose."

"The burly lad is near knighthood, anyways. It is just as well. This is merely extra training for him."

Galahad nodded. "And there is the matter of the girl..."

"Ah, her. Will she be joining the fray as well?"

"I have received word that she is home from the Academy, just last night. I was going to see her myself."

Pelize thought about this for a while. "This will be interesting." He chuckled. "Well then, I'm off."

  
* * * * *

  
"Are you quite certain you do not need a hand, m'lady? I could do that for you."

"No need," the girl brushed the butler off. "I can do this by myself."

"Will you be needing anything else then?"

The girl sighed inwardly to herself. The butler would not let her off until she gave him something to do. "Why don't you prepare luncheon while I pack my things?"

The old man smiled gratefully in response. "Aye, madam. That I shall."

She sighed, and shook her head as soon as she was alone. She was packing her valise, but doing it rather absentmindedly. Barely making herself at home from her arrival the other night, she soon heard news from the Knighthood regarding the summons for Brass Castle. Now she was at a loss on what to do. Her term in school was nearly ended, and yet, she had other duties to attend to as well. She was getting all her priorities mixed up again.

She was already feeling a headache coming.

It didn't help that the butler, dear old man that he was, was anxiously hawking around her every move. Well, she hadn't been home much. She supposed the dear man worried about her. The place seemed empty quite often now, she noted ruefully. She missed the noisy hallways of the school's dormitory, the comfortable bustle of activity that echoed throughout every corner...but she missed her home, too. Except that being home, without her parents, wasn't much of a welcoming thought.

"M'lady?"

The girl broke from her reverie at the intruding voice. "What is it?"

"You have a visitor."

'At this hour?' she thought, almost irritably. Callers usually came by early in the evening. "Who is it?"

"It's Sir Galahad of the Zexen Knights, m'lady. He wishes to speak with you."

At the sound of the captain's name, the girl turned her full attention to the butler. "Have you led him inside?"

"Yes, m'lady; he is waiting inside the parlor."

"Good. I shall be over in a minute then."

Galahad stood up as soon as the young girl entered the room. "Good day, Sir Galahad," she greeted, managing a polite curtsy to the captain of the Zexen Knights. "What brings you here?"

Galahad waited until the two of them had settled comfortably on the damask chairs before replying. "I had received news of you being home, young Chris. You are feeling well, I hope? Have you finished the semester in school?"

Chris shook her head. "I haven't yet, Captain. I only took this chance to rest at home, but the Academy is on break for a fortnight."

"I see." Tea had been prepared for the both of them by the butler, and he took a sip from his own cup now. "You have heard of the summons regarding all qualified soldiers reporting to Brass Castle, I presume?"

"Yes." Chris met the older man's look, nodding slightly. "It was one of the reasons why I had to come home. I had to decide whether or not to proceed to Brass Castle."

"And have you come to a decision already?"

"I...I had meant to attend to my schooling, Captain, and settle matters with the director after this semester was over. But it can wait. I only have two terms to finish."

"Only two terms left? How long 'til you finish this semester?"

"In a month."

"In that case, you needn't hurry. You're excused from the summons until you finish."

Chris' face broke into a hesitant, but grateful smile. "I must thank you for this generous consideration, Captain. Also, as I had mentioned, I meant to speak with the school director and propose suitable arrangements. As I only have one term left to finish after this one, I had been thinking of asking them to increase the number of required subjects I still have to take up, so that I may finish the second term early."

"So that you may begin to fully concentrate on becoming a Zexen knight." Galahad intended it to be a question, but it came out as a statement. Once again, the Lady Chris nodded humbly in response. He inhaled deeply, before continuing. "Your father must be very proud of you. But he would've wanted you to finish your schooling, as well."

Chris smiled in response. "I know. And I fully intend to, Captain." Steely determination flashed through her eyes for a brief second. "Just as I fully intend to become a knight in the service of Zexen, like my father."

The old captain of the Zexen Knights smiled admiringly at the young girl whose spirit burned with such conviction. "You do well, young Chris. You do well." 

Chris bowed her head. "Thank you, Captain."

He was hard pressed not to offer other words of praise. The path to knighthood was hard enough for any single man; more so it was for a woman. The girl before him held no illusions, and it was just as well. Even so, Chris Lightfellow had shown great promise not just as a female, but as a future Zexen Knight. Her dedication, determination and prowess with the blade gave her well-deserved distinction, especially since she was a girl--one who had already bested more than a few of her peers and seniors alike in the arts of weaponry, with astounding skill. 

She was the daughter and only child of Wyatt Lightfellow, after all.

At the thought of this, Galahad recalled the real reason behind his visit to the Lightfellow residence in the capital. It was not an ordinary call, and in fact, had something to do with the girl's father. Chris seemed to have sensed this, and, as if reading his mind, asked him politely as she could if there was any other reason for his visit. Galahad knew well the gravity of the task at hand, and he decided not to mince words.

"It is about your father, Chris."

Chris could barely conceal a sharp intake of breath as she heard the older man mention her father. In truth, it had been over two years since she had last seen him; she had received no word from him since he had set out for the last mission. When she was a child, her father was sometimes away for longer periods of time, but at least then she and her mother had been sent news regularly of her father's situation. This was different. Since the last skirmish that ensued between the Grasslanders and the Zexen people had happened, knights rarely had time for their families back in their homeland. Her father was no exception. Days had passed, and soldiers who served in the recent battles had already come home, and yet, Wyatt Lightfellow was not among them. Chris refused to believe the worst, and clung stubbornly to hope. But hearing those words spoken by the Captain nearly broke the fragile control she kept reined on her emotions. Relief washed over her...all too quickly followed by fear.

"Have you heard from my father?"

In response, Galahad produced a thin, much grayed and slightly crumpled missive. "A messenger arrived a fortnight ago in Brass Castle, along with a small retinue, those of the 3rd southern mission."

With trembling hands, Chris took the envelope presented to her and carefully pried it open. She looked up at the older man. "From the 3rd southern mission? They're back?"

Galahad nodded. "That missive was written in your father's hand, addressed to the head of the Knighthood based in the capital city. It seems dated, though, more than a few weeks ago. He is alive and well, but..." He paused, noticing the anxious look on the girl's face as she pored over the letter. "But...he has not mentioned returning at all. Indeed, he seemed rather vague on his account of the seige that had happened up north, even with the fact that it has been abandoned several months ago."

The silver-haired girl was pale and trembling as she beheld the letter in her hands. She read over the few significant lines quickly, repeatedly, hardly hearing the Captain's words. She fought valiantly to appear calm, her breathing staggered, and her heart beating wildly in her chest. An expression of bitter confusion crossed her features, and finally, she folded the letter carefully.  


* * * * *

The night was to be a sleepless one for all concerned.

From a distant land where the endless green abound, and the winds whispered the secrets of the spirits, a man sat in a solitary corner of an abandoned cottage. He had long taken off his armor, and his sword was badly damaged. Still, there were no dangers here. At least nothing for those who were dearest to him. They were leagues away, separated by the distance and time of travel. He ignored the growing ache that gnawed at him at the thought of what he had left.

The cold of the night had creeped into his bones, and yet, he had not made an effort to rise. He leaned his head heavily on the cracked wall and closed his eyes. But the night was unkind, and he found no solace in the empty air. He opened his eyes once more and raised his arm, flexing his fingers albeit gingerly. He grimaced as he became aware of the power he held within the bounds of his mortal flesh. The rune.

Some time ago, he had been granted the chance for new life. Another one, with the others he had already lived. Once, long ago, time had ceased to hold meaning for him. He was lost to its significance...until he met a woman who gave him back his soul, and taught him to believe and have hope, when he, with his incurable cynicism had managed to learn... It was also she who had given him the most precious gift of all--a daughter.

He smiled, but it was an expression that held deeper emotions.

On some nights, not unlike this one, he would surrender to the call of memories of that happy life he lived, however briefly that was. For surely, though the future held obscure hopes for a weilder of true power like himself, it also brought him safely into the hands of fate. In the end, it was going to be alright. Someday, he could stop running away.

That brought another smile upon his sun-burned lips.

In another place, a man also sat up from his bed, thinking. The hours ticked by and the sky could not grow darker, and yet...night offered no complacence. He could not understand the dreams that plagued him, puzzled by their very effect when he could only remember fragments of it.

In the same city the man lives, a girl was pacing in her bedroom, wide awake as well. Her mind replayed yesterday's events slowly, almost painfully so, and in great detail...especially the exchange of words between her and a respected superior. Sleep could not come at an hour like this, even if darkness fell around her and signalled rest. Her heart was full to bursting, her mind endlessly turning at the options that lay ahead. Decisions had to be made. For surely, tomorrow would bring her unwelcome crossroads.

Somewhere within another residence in the city, a young squire had no such troubling thoughts. Indeed, it could be said that he was all but troubled. In his case, he simply forgot the importance of rest. His mind was occupied, thinking about other things, and sleep was unfortunately not on the perimeter of important thoughts, at least not right now. Who could think of sleeping when he was about to leave the city in a few days? Since yesterday, he had been thinking of the summons issued by his Vice Captain, and little else. He would not admit, even to himself, that most of what actually excited him was the thought of finally ending a fight that had been unjustly interrupted...and for long moments, he relished the image of being the honorable victor, and patronizing the defeated with a dignified air. He had envisioned himself giving a kind, but humbling speech that would put the wayward back in his place.

He was not going to be defeated. It was probably just a fluke, he wondered to himself, but even then, he doubted those very words when they echoed inside his mind. It didn't matter anyhow.

For sure, these were not the thoughts of a certain trainee. For the second night in a row, early slumber eluded this young man. His mind was also on the summons that was issued a few days ago, and the same determined fire that kept him awake last evening still burned. Tomorrow he would leave the city for the castle. He could not know what the next day had in store for him, but he was ready to face it head on. This was merely another bend in the road, and he had gone through far much to be daunted now. There were no important decisions to choose from; there was only one. And that was all that mattered. 

But to someone else, in a castle two days travel from the capital, it was not enough. This was a man who now held great responsibility on his shoulders...and it was exactly this responsibility that was keeping him awake at such an ungodly hour of the night. To him, pride and dreams were all fine, but it would take more than that to be considered a true warrior. He knows it only too well.

He was sitting in front of his desk, head bent at work. Candles in front of him were burning more than halfway through their length, and the wax was spilling ungracefully from their holders. Still, he remained, unnoticing this. His attention was focused on the papers that cluttered the table in front of him...particularly the newer batch of documents that lay untouched on a corner. He reached out for this now, and opened it, sifting through the other papers, and selecting from them carefully. Then, gathering the ousted from the pile of documents, he proceeded to read those he held in his hands now carefully.

Another hour passed before an expression of mild surprise crossed his features, and the reason for this was the single document he was currently looking over. Leafing through the papers stapled together, he noted how thin the compilation was compared to most of the other documents in the pile. He turned back on the first page, and skimmed through the contents and information. A single eyebrow lifted upward in mild surprise. He was further intrigued as he continued to read.

No one knows how many more hours the man had spent bent over those papers...but no one could deny the significance his diligence held over the future of aspiring knights. Had it not been for this plan forced upon them by circumstances, the legend of six, which future generations would come to venerate, would have been born late.

That night, the wheel of fate had completed one full turn.

* * *

Author's notes:

The real action begins in Chapter 5. *grins evilly*

Touga - I've been quite a fan of your Percival fanfics, too. ^_- Thanks for reading this. Fear not! Even though I really did not like Borus initially, and aside from the fact of burning down Karaya village and punching Percival in Iksay (it happened in the manga! _), I do not hate him. And in fact, I'm ashamed to admit, I'm beginning to like him better (must be all those good Yumi/Borus fics...)  
Mox - No, I haven't quite given up this fanfic, don't worry. ^_^ Thanks for reading.  
Keshoo Neko - I have been reading your fanfics. ^_^ Good stuff. Let's continue to glorify Percival, shall we? ^_-

I've had new info on the knights' ages, and I was appalled to find out that Leo is older than Salome...the others did tease the latter for being the "old" man in the game. But since this is second-hand info, we're not 100% sure about this. I'm still sticking to the original ages I had intended for the Zexen Knights, where Salome is older than Leo. Actually, only Chris', Borus' and Percival's matter. My guesses were pretty close, too, 'cos like I said, in Suikoden 3 setting I had imagined they were 23, 24 and 25 respectively. My guesses were based on Lilly's age, which is about 21 or 22...I figured she and Chris had to be close in age because of their intertwining histories. ^_-

**Thank you's:**

I must thank Aria from Gamefaqs for providing a couple of manga scans (and for being a fountain of information!). My japanese is very limited, and it's been a long time since I've actually attempted to use the knowledge but it helped a lot. ^^; I was tempted to rewrite my story, but I must go on with this. ^_^ At least now after reading the manga, I like Chris Lightfellow a little better than before.

Heartfelt gratitude goes out to 13thmoon as well, who not only provided additional scanlations of the manga, but helped me with the translations and official gameguides! I love Nash Latkje just as much as you do, girl, and we'll do him justice, I promise you. But it's Percy for this fic, okay? ^_-

Of course, BlueMoon of Suikosource has my gratitude as well, because he provides a whole lot of information on Suikoden as a whole. I could not have written this story without all that knowledge. Hehe.

And of course, to everyone who reads and reviews. Thank you very much. ^^ This is actually the first time I've written something that isn't of a romantic nature, and I wasn't sure if others would like it. I was planning on pulling my inspiration from my love of all things Percival.


End file.
